


Impress Me

by creamyfilling



Category: Glee
Genre: Barebacking, Cunnilingus, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Marathon Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creamyfilling/pseuds/creamyfilling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a dorky guy with big lips who's obsessed with doing ridiculous impressions she never gets, Sam might be the best fuck Santana's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impress Me

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt that's basically the summary.

Santana has a habit of judging people.

Most people seem to think that makes her a bitch, but she just likes to think she's keeping it real. Plus, she's  _hilarious_ , so really, everyone should just lighten up. Besides, she's basically always almost fifty percent completely right in all of her snap judgments, so are they  _really_  judgments, or just intuition?

Either way, Santana "judges" people, and Sam Evans? He has no game.

Sure he's hot, like  _really_  hot, like Santana actually can't believe someone that hot could be cursed with such an insufferable personality, but the second he opens that giant trout mouth of his, he loses all of his appeal to her.

Santana figured he'd be a huge nerd, considering he's Artie's best friend from back home and everything, but Brittany swore he was hilarious and awesome and for a second Santana forgot about Brittany's horrible taste in boys (she's the one dating  _Wheels_  after all), and she let her roommate set them up. And yes, when he walked in the door of the bar and started heading their way, maybe Santana felt a bit of a tingle in her lady parts, but then he introduced himself with some weird ass impression of Dr. Seuss (she  _thinks_ ) and the tingle was gone.

She spends the rest of the night scowling at every impression Sam makes and rolling her eyes at the way Artie and Brittany just laugh and laugh at him like he's the funniest fucking person they've ever met. Which is obviously complete bullshit because they've both definitely met  _her_  and she's one hundred percent way more hilarious than this loser is.

"So what do you think?" Brittany asks her when they go to the ladies room after an hour of listening to Sam talk about his move from Lima.

Santana gives Brittany an incredulous look. "What do I  _think_?  _What do I_   _think_? Are you insane? Brittany, how could you have _possibly_  thought I would like that kid?"

"He's cute and funny," the blonde shrugs, not looking away from her reflection in the mirror. "Plus, and don't tell Artie this because he'd get all weird about it even though it happened before we started dating, he's really good in bed. Like  _really_  good."

Santana scoffs and shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah fucking right, Britt. What, does he do his best James Dean impression when he's getting it in?"

"Who's James Dean?"

"Nevermind," Santana sighs, watching as her blonde best friend caps her eyeliner and tosses it back into her purse before turning to look at her finally. "He's awful, Britt. I don't do nerds."

Brittany shrugs, not sure why Santana's making a big deal about it. "Then don't  _do_  him. But you have to be nice, because we're the only people he knows in town, so he's probably gonna be around a lot."

With that, Brittany heads out the door and leaves Santana to stew for a bit longer before she eventually sucks it up and makes her way back out to their table, ready to spend the rest of the night biting her tongue after every ridiculous comment Sam makes.

She somehow survives the rest of the night – and more impressively,  _Sam_  somehow survives the night, too – but Brittany ends up being right. Sam  _does_ start hanging around a lot. Like, a lot, a lot, a lot. Like, anytime Artie comes over to their place, Sam is with him. Like, everytime they go to the bar or out to dinner or to the movies, Sam is there too. It's honestly pathetic. He's been here for a month and he hasn't made any other friends yet?

And okay, maybe if she didn't want to see his stupid LL Cool J lips, she could also stop pathetically hanging out with Artie and Brittany all the time and get her own boyfriend, but every guy she's met lately is awful and not even worth a quick fuck in her car, so  _excuse her_  if she's been playing third wheel lately, that doesn't make Sam any less pathetic for being  _fourth_  wheel.

The worst part is that because Brittany and Artie are always being all disgustingly cute and coupley, Santana always ends up stuck with Sam. When they drive anywhere, she's stuck in the back with him, when they go to dinner, she has to share the booth with him, and when they're hanging around the apartment and Brittany and Artie head to bed early (to go  _fuck,_  Santana's not stupid), she gets stuck sharing the couch and watching the rest of the movie with Sam because the boy cannot take a hint to save his life.

She has to admit though, as annoying as Santana finds Sam and his continued presence in her life, it  _is_  kind of nice not to be the perpetual third wheel to her best friend and her robot boyfriend anymore. It makes her feel slightly less pathetic when they go out to dinner and she can tell the waitress thinks they're on a double date instead of thinking she's the charity case single friend. Sure, the thought of someone thinking she'd actually date  _Sam_  makes her want to throw up a little, but it's not like a random person knows just how awful he is, and shallowly, she admits, he's not the worst.

Those are  _public_  benefits, though. There's no silver lining to being forced to socialize with Sam inside the comfort of her own home. Or, well, that's what she thought (and whined endlessly about), anyway, until she finds herself stuck alone with Sam _again_  one night, begrudgingly finishing the end of some lame superhero movie she's not really paying attention to, the sounds of Brittany and Artie's fucking echoing around the apartment.

"Do they think we're deaf or something?" Sam asks awkwardly, speaking for the first time since the couple ditched them ten minutes ago.

"They don't care if we can hear," Santana answers back, sipping her wine cooler absentmindedly, not particularly bothered by the obnoxious noises coming from the other room. "Brittany was born without the ability to feel shame and Artie is still so damn proud he gets to bang her that he loves reminding any and everyone any chance he gets."

Sam shifts in his seat, clearly less comfortable listening to his friends than Santana is. He was used to hanging around them back home in Lima, but it was never like  _this_  in high school. "They do this all the time?"

"It's even worse when I'm trying to sleep and all I can hear is  _'Oh god, Artie, yes, yes, yes_!'" Santana shares, doing her best orgasming Brittany impression.

"Oh, Artie!" Brittany's voice travels into the living room before Sam can reply, and Santana raises a hand as if to say  _'see?_ ' "Oh god, right there, yes, yes,  _yes_!"

The two of them share a look, Sam's of horror and Santana's of amusement, before they both start laughing. It's probably the first moment since meeting him that Santana feels some kind of companionship with him.

"Hopefully that means they're done then," Sam says with a laugh, a dopey grin on his face as he looks at Santana. He's so used to seeing her scowling, he's only just noticing how nice her smile is. Brittany had raved to him about her new roommate and bestie when she met her last year, but since meeting her himself, he had wondered if she had confused Santana with another Latina from school or something.

"Oh no, they're just getting starting," Santana scoffs, sending the blonde boy a sympathetic glance as she takes another sip of her drink. "We've only been hearing Britt, which means she just got done riding Artie's face, which  _also_  means she's still gotta give him head and then we're in for at least two more orgasms before Artie blows his load."

Sam's face drastically drops and his eyes widen. " _What?_  How could you  _possibly_  know that?"

"After about the fifteenth time of hearing it, I can pretty much give you the play by play," Santana answers with a nonchalant shrug, before doing just that when Sam looks dubious.

With the movie completely forgotten, Santana does her best exaggerated moaning Brittany impression between narrations of what she imagines the couple is doing in the next room. After a while Sam even gets in on it, doing his best Artie, and it's the first time he's done an impression where Santana hasn't wanted to punch him in the face.

She doesn't know if it's the wine coolers she's had, the laughter, the fake moaning, the  _real_  moaning or the length of time since she's last had sex, but eventually Santana somehow finds herself attached to Sam's humongous lips. She doesn't even know who made the first move, she just knows that she has his tongue in her mouth and her hands in his old school Bieber hair and the sounds of her own moans have drowned out Brittany's.

As Sam pushes her onto her back and starts kissing down her neck, Santana has to admit that she can't even blame it on the alcohol, because despite what she plans on telling Brittany or anyone if they ever find out, she's not actually drunk. Santana's fully in control of her decisions as she  _decides_  to pull Sam's shirt off, and she's  _definitely_  aware of her actions as she slips a hand between their bodies and reaches into his sweat pants and starts stroking his already hard cock in her hand.

"Should we…" Sam starts, not being able to resist leaning down to kiss Santana's swollen lips once more before continuing. She looks really pretty with her messy hair and puffy lips and flushed cheeks, laid out underneath him. "Bedroom?"

Santana shakes her head. "Here," she mumbles against his lips, tugging on his dick. "Just be quiet."

And Sam  _is_  quiet, silently kissing her senseless again before pulling away just long enough to lean back and tug her pants and underwear off her legs, settling for just pushing his own down to his knees for now before nestling between her legs once more, nudging Santana's hand off his cock and replacing it with his own.

Santana relents control for now, one hand wrapped around the back of Sam's neck to keep him close, the other underneath her shirt to grope at her tits as Sam starts trailing the head of his cock up and down her slit teasingly.

"Stop," she groans, arching into him. "Stop teasing and get inside me."

Sam is just about to do as she says, dragging his tip down to her pulsating entrance, before he freezes as he remembers an important detail. "I, I don't, I didn't, do you have a condom?"

"Forget about it, I'm on the pill," she tells him in a rush, rolling her eyes a bit at his good boy act. She's never once been with a guy when a condom was  _his_  idea. But Sam Evans  _would_. "Just fuck me before I get sick of looking at you."

Sam doesn't need to be told twice (well, okay, he kinda did, but in his defense, he was just trying to be a gentleman), and he sinks into Santana, her tight pussy stretching around his shaft to pull him in. Santana's breath hitches as he pushes in deeper, letting her leg drop off the side of the couch to give Sam more room to fit himself inside her.

Sam's cock is bigger than Santana imagined and feels thicker in her snatch than it did in her hand just a moment ago, and she can't believe it's been so long since she's gotten dick that it feels this fucking good. That's the reason she's telling herself, anyway, her toes curling as Sam starts to pump into her, apparently getting the memo that she wants this fast and rough.

He fucks her hard into the couch with strong and smooth thrusts, and Santana can't believe Sam's dick game is actually this strong, because she's seen him dance, and that body roll he always does has nothing on this.

"F-fuck, you're really tight," Sam grunts from above her, every muscle in his arm straining as he tries to support his weight with one hand while his other slips between their bodies to attend to Santana's clit. He can't help but grin smugly when Santana's leg hooks around his back and her body arches up into him in immediate reaction. "You like that, huh?"

"No, no talking," Santana's just barely able to spit out as Sam's cock already manages to find her spot and pound into it so damn hard.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam responds in some weird voice Santana can only assume is an impression of someone and she's a hundred percent sure her pussy would've dried up right then if he wasn't still rubbing her clit.

Santana tries to tell him to shut up, but her words catch in her throat, and it just comes out as a strangled moan that he swallows in a kiss. Santana's not usually a big fan of kissing or eye contact or any kind of intimacy during sex, but if it'll keep Sam's mouth shut, she'll allow it this one time.

Santana can feel Sam's rock hard abs ripple against her stomach as he presses their bodies together, his long strides switching to short ones, his hips jerking his cock into her hard. He's forced to abandon her clit and pulls his hand out from between them, removing his lips from hers only to slip his soaked fingers into her mouth so she can lick her juices off of them.

He keeps his fingers there as his cock pounds her closer and closer to orgasm, his eyes watching in amusement as Santana's face contorts everytime he thrusts in and hits that spot deep inside her. Sam can feel the walls of her pussy clenching around his cock sporadically, fluttering and clasping at his thick shaft as he goes harder and harder and...

"Oh  _fuck_!" Santana cries out as the ball in her stomach suddenly bursts and her orgasm rips through her without warning. Her body spasms underneath Sam's and the boy takes his fingers out of her mouth so he can clamp his hand over it to muffle her screaming. Brittany and Artie seem to have stopped fucking at some point during Sam and Santana's round, and something tells him Santana's a screamer.

Every part of Santana grips onto Sam tightly - her pussy around his cock, her fingers in his scalp and her heels into his ass – as she comes, the pleasure rolling over her in waves.

Sam only waits until the vice grip around his dick loosens before he starts thrusting into her again, determined to get another orgasm out of her before he comes himself. She seems to be wound pretty tight and maybe a few good orgasms will make her nicer. His thighs slap against hers and his heavy balls collide with her ass each time he pumps in, and he sure hopes his friends are sleeping because there's no mistaking the sounds their bodies are making, even through walls, if their own sex was any indication.

Santana is barely even recovered from her first orgasm when the second one starts to build in the pit of her stomach, and not even a minute later, she's ready to start giving an encore performance, this time pulling Sam over the edge with her.

"I-I'm coming," he pants out, the tingling in his balls making his thrusts erratic as he jerks into her. "Should I pull out?"

"No, stay, stay inside," Santana grunts, Sam's hand now pressing her sweaty hair against her head and out of her face. "I want you to, to come inside me, Jesus fucking-!"

And then they're both coming, Santana's pussy fluttering around Sam's throbbing cock as he pumps his warm cum deep inside her, his dick flaring in its tight confines around every rope of jizz he's shooting into Santana's cunt.

Every nerve ending in Santana's body is buzzing as she feels Sam fill her up, the jerk of his hips fucking his cum deeper into her pussy each time. She feels the warmth blossoming within her, a feeling she hasn't felt in years and Santana's feeling so high on endorphins she can't even be bothered to pretend Sam's cum doesn't feel fucking fantastic inside her pussy.

The post orgasm euphoria only lasts about a minute and then Sam opens his mouth and the reality of what just happened crashes into Santana.

"Was it good for you, baby?" Sam asks with a grin, and Santana  _thinks_  he's trying to be Austin Powers.

"Oh god," she groans in mortification.  _This_  guy has his dick inside her right now. "Off, off, get off!"

Sam looks utterly confused but doesn't fight her, wincing as the heels of her hands dig into his collarbone as she pushes him away from her. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"Ugh," is all she says, cringing at the wet plopping sound Sam's cock makes as it slips out of her when she rolls off the couch. Santana grabs her discarded pants and scrambles to her feet, using the crumbled clothes to cover her naked lower body in some ridiculous attempt to conserve her dignity in front of Sam, as if she doesn't have his cum inside her right now. "This  _never_  happened."

"What?" Sam laughs a little in disbelief and confusion, his pants still at his knees and his cum slicked cock still hanging out half hard and mocking Santana. "That  _definitely_  happened. And it was totally awesome."

" _Nothing_  was totally awesome because  _nothing happened_ ," Santana hisses, glaring at the blonde boy.

Sam pouts and leans back against the couch, tugging his pants back up and tucking his cock back inside them. "Look, I won't tell anyone, if that's what you mean."

"You better not," she practically growls, spotting her thong on the floor and quickly snatching it up. "And in case it wasn't clear already,  _nothing_  is certainly never happening again, you got it?" Sam rolls his eyes and nods, not bothering to even reply to her anymore. Santana's obviously in the middle of a meltdown of some kind and he knows better than to try to reason with girls having meltdowns. "Now go home. You  _do_  have your own home, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then  _bye_." With that, Santana turns on her heel and storms off to her bedroom, her attempt at a dramatic exit losing a bit of effect with her bare ass on display and the ridiculous way she's walking to keep anything from leaking out of her. She feels Sam's eyes on her the whole way, but she doesn't dare look back, slamming her door shut with a huff and throwing her clothes to the ground as she flops down on her bed, too sore and tired and shameful to even get under the covers.

Santana hears Sam leave the apartment a few minutes later and she falls to sleep with his load still tucked inside her.

*

Despite her post fuck dramatics, it's not really a surprise to either Sam or Santana that it does in fact happen again.

(And spoiler alert, again and again and again and again).

The only surprising thing, really, is that she's able to hold out for as long as she does.

It's a week – yes, that  _is_  a long time, shut up – before Santana finds herself right back on her living room couch with Sam. She's got even less excuses this time, because Brittany and Artie aren't even home, let alone having sex in the next room. Santana doesn't even know why Sam is here, actually, she just got home from a late class and found him sitting there watching television and didn't even think to question it. She just ignored his greeting and made a beeline for the kitchen for some leftovers.

It was some time after that that she joined him on the couch, except rather than sitting down beside him, she kind of ended up straddling him instead because apparently late lectures make her horny now. It probably doesn't help that she's been thinking about their hook up all week and how good his big dick felt in her snatch and well, Sam looks particularly teen heart-throbby tonight, blonde hair swept back and light stubble on his face; he isn't even wearing a dumb comic book shirt or anything.

"Where are the siamese twins?" Santana asks between kisses, brain still functioning enough to be worried about getting caught.

"Movies," Sam mumbles distractedly, most of his focus on trying to unclip Santana's bra under her shirt.

Santana slaps his hands away when he still hasn't gotten it undone after almost a minute, and does it herself, tugging her shirt over her head before removing her bra all together. "You really do have  _no_ game."

"I didn't hear any complaints last time," Sam shoots back smugly, not really bothered by Santana's constant jabs anymore. He mostly just finds them amusing now. Santana's funny.

"I was desperate," she replies, seemingly forgetting the fact that she's currently sitting topless in his lap.

Sam gives her a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. "And yet here you are, tits  _all_  up in my grill." Santana's pretty sure that's his impression of her.

"Ugh, shut up," Santana groans, tugging at his shirt so he'll take it off. Sam will annoy her a lot less if she can see his abs. "Less talking, more undressing."

Sam doesn't have a problem with that at all, he'll do whatever she wants as long as he gets a second round in with her. Sex with Santana was like the best thing ever, maybe even better than that one time he hooked up with Brittany when they were supposed to be babysitting their younger siblings junior year of high school (don't tell Artie, though).

So he lets Santana pull his shirt off and leans back as she kisses down his chest, clenching his fists at his sides when her lips reach the hem of his pants and kiss his pelvic bone. He really wants to thread his fingers through her hair, but he's scared to do just about anything in fear of scaring her off or ruining the moment, so he lets her set the pace for now, lifting his hips off the couch when she tugs his pants and boxers down his legs, taking them completely off this time.

Santana stands up just long enough to remove her own clothes, tossing them to the side and staring down at the naked boy in front of her. She's never really been overly impressed with the naked male body, but she has to admit that Sam looks good.  _Really_  good. So good she almost gets on her knees to suck that huge cock of his, but she's not about that life, so instead, she just straddles him again, bringing their lips back together as she grinds into his lap to get him hard enough to fuck.

Santana's sinking down on Sam's cock in no time at all, fingers digging into his shoulders as she slides down his shaft until she's got his entire length buried inside her. "F-fuck," she breathes out, dropping her forehead against his as she takes a moment to adjust to his size before she starts rocking into him.

She doesn't bother starting slow, just throws her head back and rides him hard, twisting and rolling her hips in ways that only years of experience can allow her to do. Her tits bounce in Sam's face and she lets out a loud moan when she feels his wet mouth latch onto one of them, big lips sucking on her tanned skin as his tongue swirls around her nipple.

Santana has her first orgasm not long after, her body spasming in Sam's lap before she slumps against his chest in exhaustion, face buried in his neck as she tries to catch her breath. Sam just holds her for a moment, savoring the way her pussy vibrates and flutters around his throbbing cock as she comes down, before he's getting to his feet and taking her with him.

"Whoa, whoa, what the fuck are you doing?" she yelps in surprise, clenching her pussy when she feels herself bouncing on his dick as he walks around the couch.

"Less talking, more fucking," Sam chastises her with a grin, releasing his hold on her ass and letting her drop to her feet, his cock slipping out of her. Santana wobbles, her knees still weak from her orgasm, but before she can gain her balance, Sam is spinning her around and bending her over the arm of the couch, not wasting a second as he slides back inside her and starts going to town.

Sam fucks her hard and fast, in a different way than he did the last time. Santana doesn't know what it is, but she feels it in the way her body jerks forward each time he buries himself in deep, in the way his big hands are gripping her waist. The sheer force of his thrusts are moving the couch little by little, and Santana can already feel her second orgasm building.

Santana bucks her ass back to meet Sam's pumping hips, the sound of their slapping skin echoing around the moderately sized apartment. It's obnoxiously loud, and Santana's wondering if their neighbors can hear them when Sam tugs her backwards against him so he can slip a hand around her body and start furiously rubbing her clit, and then she knows they can, because the moan she lets out as she comes is animalistic.

The way Santana's pussy tightens around Sam's cock is enough to set him off right after her, his hips jerking violently into her ass as he comes, shooting his thick jizz into her convulsing cunt and fucking it deep inside her.

They throb together for a moment, Santana's body buzzing with pleasure as she feels Sam's cum spill into her, all warm and creamy, and  _oh God_ , she could pass out right now, slumped over the arm rest, naked ass in the air, a sticky load dripping down her thighs into a puddle on the floor, she feels so good. Brittany's so fucking weird and unashamed she'd probably just stroll right in, sit down on the couch beside her and start a conversation like it's nothing.

Santana whines pathetically when Sam pulls out of her, her pussy tightening around nothing now and she can feel his load leaking out of her already. She musters up all her strength and pushes herself up to her feet, ignoring the big glob of cum that drops to the floor as she turns to look at him. He looks all smug and satisfied, standing there naked with his still hard cock covered in their combined cum and Santana wants to smack him.

" _What?_ " she barks, her post orgasm haziness passing the faster she looks at his dumb face.

"Nothing," he laughs, glancing down at the white blobs on the floor. Instead of commenting, he bends down to pick up his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head first, knowing Santana's about to kick him out. "It's just, next time we should probably do it somewhere else. I'm never gonna be able to watch a movie here anymore without thinking about you bent over that arm."

Santana bristles at the boy and scoffs. "There's not gonna be a next time, Trouty Mouth."

"If you say so," the blonde laughs, shaking his head as Santana huffs and stalks off to her room again, even though her clothes are still laid out on the floor. She's nothing if not consistent. "But you might wanna clean up the mess you made out here before Brittany comes home," he calls after her, only to be met with the slam of her door. "Ridiculous."

*

It isn't until the fifth time they fuck that Santana finally drops the dramatic exits and denials, and accepts that she's hungry for White Chocolate dick (Sam  _so_  wishes Brittany hadn't told Santana about  _that_  whole thing).

And it's somewhere around the tenth time when she stops feeling ashamed for it. Yeah, Sam is a nerd and yeah, he can probably quote Avatar in its entirety, but she'd be lying if she said he isn't the best fuck she's ever had, and she's positive that anyone that would judge her for it would agree after riding his cock, so it's whatever to her now. So she's fucking a dork, at least he's a hot one, with awesome abs and a huge dick.

It's still a secret, though. She wouldn't go so far as to say she's  _proud_  of it either.

She's got a reputation to maintain, after all.

*

"You're not sleeping with anyone else, are you?"

It's Thanksgiving break and Artie and Brittany have flown home for the long weekend. Santana's currently not speaking to her mother and as it turns out, Sam's family can't really afford the flight right now, so they decide to take advantage of the free apartment and come to an unspoken agreement that Sam will be crashing there for the next four days. Merely for convenience, of course.

"No," Sam answers, shifting onto his side to look at the girl laying in bed next to him. It's the first time they've ever actually had sex in it. Of the thirty-seven times they've had sex (Santana's stopped counting, but Sam hasn't), it's almost always in the living room or his dorm room or the backseat of her car or even the alley outside of the bar they always hang out at if Santana's feeling really horny (that was only one time, though). "Why?"

Santana shifts under his gaze, wanting to smack the little smirk off his humongous lips. "Because I'm letting you stick that thing in me raw," she reminds him with a scoff, immediately shutting down any little  _ideas_  he might getting. "I think I deserve to know where else it's been."

"Only in you," Sam answers lightly, reaching out to slip a hand around her naked waist and pull her closer and into a kiss. When she doesn't resist, Sam rolls over onto his back and pulls her small body on top of his, never breaking their kiss.

They get in one more round of fucking before they're too exhausted to continue and Sam's surprised when Santana doesn't kick him out of bed and make him sleep in Brittany's room or on the couch like he thought she would. Instead, she just rolls off him and pulls the covers over them, warning him not to even try to cuddle with her before she dozes off.

The next morning, Santana's glad she doesn't walk up to bulky arms around her waist, but a finger teasing her clit. She thinks she's still dreaming until she feels hot breath against her mound, and she opens her eyes to find Sam between her spread legs, mischievous green eyes looking up at her.

"You were moaning in your sleep," he tells her with a grin, ghosting his thumb over her throbbing clit. " _Begging_  me to fuck you."

"Was not," Santana mumbles, though she knows it's probably true. She  _was_  just dreaming of Sam bending her over the hood of car and pounding her brains out.

Sam hums in disagreement, applying more pressure to her clit as he shimmies down the bed a bit further so his face is right in front of Santana's already dripping center. "Is that why you're wet? Because you  _weren't_ dreaming about me?"

Instead of denying it, Santana just cups Sam's head and pulls him into her, bucking her hips up to meet his face when he immediately sticks his tongue out and dutifully starts licking through her folds. Santana loves it when Sam eats her out, he's as good with his tongue as he is with his dick, and it gives her a bit of peace of mind to know that his Kylie Jenner lips are good for  _something_ , at least.

"Slow," she moans, and that's a first. Usually it's all  _faster_  and  _harder_  and  _fuck me, you pussy_ , but she never wants it  _slow_. But, they've never had morning sex before, either, so it seems this weekend is full of firsts.

Sam goes slow for her, though, starts with soft kisses against her wet lips and kitten licks at her clit, then makes a path up and down her slit over and over again before he dips his tongue inside her and fucks her with it. He gets her off with only his mouth, his fingers pressing into her hipbones to keep her grounded against the bed. Sam drinks up every drop of Santana's arousal she releases into his mouth and laps softly at her pussy as she comes down.

They spend the rest of the weekend holed up in the apartment, never wearing much of anything and fucking against basically every surface it's possible to fuck on, and some they come to learn are not. Sam sneaks into Santana's showers and fucks her against the wall, attempts to watch television turn into Santana blowing Sam on the couch, and Santana trying to make dessert somehow ends up with Sam licking whipped cream off every inch of Santana's body.

"Don't get any ideas," she warns him Sunday night when he kisses her goodbye. "This doesn't mean we're dating or anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam replies back casually, slapping her hard on the ass before he slips out the door, leaving her to wait for her roommate alone.

*

It's kind of hard to go back to their regular routine once Brittany and Artie come back, especially when Sam starts hanging around with the three of them less and less. Santana still sees him, drops by his dorm for a quick fuck before her late lectures and anytime she knows his roommate is otherwise occupied, but it's not enough to keep her satisfied. She could simply ask him why he's not around as much, but then it'd seem like she cared or something.

"Where's Guppy Face?" she finally asks her friends one night when she joins them for a movie, only to find the blonde boy isn't with them yet again.

"He's got a hot date," Artie answers with a wiggle of his eyebrows and Santana snarls at the way Brittany giggles at her boyfriend.

She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to seem unbothered. "That loser got a date?"

"San, be nice," Brittany scolds her playfully, plopping down on Artie's lap. "He's out with a girl from his Sociology class."

"When did this happen?"

Artie gives a look, wondering why she cares so much, but doesn't dare to voice his question. "Don't know, but they've been hanging out a lot recently."

Brittany nods. "She's cute, too. They'd make pretty blonde babies."

"What, like you two would have if he knocked you up that time you had sex in high school?" she asks pointedly, trying to distract them enough so she can slip out without the third degree.

" _What?!_ "

" _Santana!_ " Brittany yelps at her best friend at the same time Artie makes his exclamation. "You weren't supposed to say anything!"

"Whatever, I'm going out," she huffs, grabbing her coat and stalking towards the door. "Have fun with  _that_  conversation."

*

Sam's not surprised to find Santana waiting outside his dorm room when he comes home, it's hardly a rare occurrence at all, but the look on her face does cause him to double take.

"Uh, hey," he greets hesitantly, awkwardly trying to move around her to stick his key in the door. "What's with the face?"

Santana ignores his question and follows him into the room once he gets the door open. "How was your  _date_?"

"My what?" Sam drops his bag on the floor and sits down on the edge of his bed, slipping his shoes off as Santana paces in front of him.

"Look, I don't care if or who you wanna date," Santana starts and the tone of her voice makes it's obvious that she actually cares very much. "But if you're gonna go and start fucking some bitch, the least you could do is tell me. I thought we already establish that I have the right to know where your dick has been."

"Hey, slow down," he replies, reaching out and stopping her in her tracks. He grips her waist and tugs her towards him until she's standing between his legs. Santana stares down at him expectantly, arms still crossed around her chest, not at all calmed down by the way he's squeezing her hips. "First, I already told you, you are the only place my dick's been, alright? And second, I wasn't on a date, I'm not dating anyone."

Santana huffs and tries to move out of Sam's hold, but he doesn't let her go. "Don't lie to me, Evans. The Bobbsey Twins already sold you out."

Sam lets out a laugh as he realizes what happened. "I wasn't on a  _date_ ," he repeats, continuing before Santana can snap again. "I wasn't. I was with a girl from my Sociology class, working on this  _huge_  project we have due before Christmas break."

"But Brittany and Artie said..."

"Brittany and Artie have just been teasing me about spending so much time with her," Sam explains, risking a smack when he pulls Santana into his lap. "Brittany says she can tell I've been getting some and when I started hanging out with her so much for the project, they assumed it was from her. But I'm not, it's just about class. I promise."

Santana's quiet for a moment, her cheeks burning in embarrassment for acting like a jealous girlfriend over this nerd. She probably would have known this if she ever even attempted to listen to anything Sam said ever. Instead of apologizing or acknowledging she was acting irrational, Santana just kisses him, pushes him back onto the bed and straddles him.

Sam wants to push the issue, but he also wants to get laid, so instead of calling her out on her obvious jealousy, he lets her do her thing, helping her get his pants off and sighing when Santana takes his cock into her warm mouth.

It's sloppy and fast, Santana's mouth making wet sucking sounds as she deep throats Sam's cock, one hand stroking the base where her lips can't reach while the other plays with his balls. It's obvious the purpose of the blowjob is just to get him hard as fast as possible and not really about getting him off, but Sam's not about to complain.

Santana's talented mouth gets the job done in no time at all, and without even taking her clothes off, Santana just hikes up her tight dress and pushes her panties to the side and sinks down on Sam's dick, biting her lip as she's swiftly stretched and filled.

Sam lets her have control for a bit, waiting until she's ridden him to her first orgasm before he abruptly flips them over and starts fucking her into the bed. As much as she loves to act like a bossy bitch, Sam knows Santana loves it even more when  _he_  takes control and really pounds her hard, and he can't say he hates it either. There's just something about topping someone like Santana that gets him off.

He hooks his arms under her knees and bends her body so he can fuck her deeper, watching the way her face twists up in pleasure each time he thrusts in deep. Sam fucks her until she comes a second time, barely waiting for her orgasm to pass before he pulls out and flips her over onto her stomach to fuck her from behind.

Sam gets another orgasm out of Santana before he comes himself, face buried in the back her neck as he pumps his warm cum into her tightening pussy. They tremble and vibrate and pant, and once Sam's sure he's emptied the last of his load into Santana, he rolls off her and onto the bed beside her, trying to catch his breath. His arm is still tucked under Santana's chest and it's about the closest to cuddling Santana is willing to get.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam wonders a few minutes later, after his heart has started to beat at a normal rate again. When Santana doesn't stop him, he lulls his head to the side to look at her. "I'm confused."

"That's not a question," Santana points out, though not unkindly. She's even smiling just a little bit.

Sam swallows before speaking. "I just... So you don't want to date me?" he clarifies, and Santana nods slightly. "But you don't want anyone else to date me either?"

Santana hesitates for a moment before answering. "Yeah," she finally says, really lowly. She knows she's being unreasonable and unfair, but she is who she is.

"Okay," Sam says simply, accepting her answer without question. For Santana, he knows that's a lot.

"Seriously?" Santana wonders, feeling like she just really opened herself up there. She was like, totally honest with him and everything. Sam shrugs. "That's all you're gonna say?"

"What, would you prefer something along the lines of,  _alright, alright, alright_?" Sam says in his best Matthew McConaughey voice, getting a genuine laugh out of Santana. Sam's smile widens at the noise. "Are you  _laughing_?"

"No," she immediately denies, but the grin on her face tells a different story.

"You are!" he exclaims with delight, pointing at the upturn of her lips. "You're laughing at one of  _my_  impressions."

"Because it was so bad," Santana defends weakly, Sam's excitement just making her smile wider.

Sam shakes his head so hard his hair flops around. "And yet your first reaction was to  _laugh_  and not to punch me in the throat," he points out, his excited smile morphing into a softer one. "I think you're starting to like me, Santana Lopez."

Santana worries her bottom lip between her teeth and doesn't deny it.


End file.
